


Civilian Terrace North

by Whatwefightfor



Series: We Must Be Brave [11]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Coffee, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Talking, The Chronicon, just two elite god slayers chatting, the last word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwefightfor/pseuds/Whatwefightfor
Summary: Aunor was less worried about being stood up and more about him getting sidetracked. There were a lot of people who demanded his time and attention - a lot of people who, by all rights, should be higher on the priority list than this non-mission meetup. But then, getting stood up was a concern, too. Aunor didn’t get stood up.Not even by the Young Wolf.
Series: We Must Be Brave [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1291235
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Civilian Terrace North

Aunor bounced her leg. She’d chosen a table outside, on the terrace this coffee shop occupied, near the door but not too near the other tables that were in use. It was on the lower levels of the Tower, a location that made it a favorite for Praxic Warlocks and the other Guardian cohorts and clans that were boarded nearby. Hopefully the person she was meeting would appreciate it.

She didn’t want to just go to Spicy Ramen, but they couldn’t very well go down into the City. Not when they were both this high profile. This was a good medium, if not exactly neutral territory. 

She’d only been there a couple minutes, but her leg was going and she was honest-to-Light about to start tapping her fingers or twiddling her thumbs. Bahaghari was watching critically, and Aunor hoped if she caught her  _ twiddling _ she’d put her out of her misery with an immediate particle beam to the skull.

She couldn’t help herself. Would he show?

He’d answered (briefly, concisely, coolly) in the affirmative, or seemed to. Aunor was less worried about being stood up and more about him getting sidetracked. There were a lot of people who demanded his time and attention - a lot of people who, by all rights, should be higher on the priority list than this non-mission meetup. But then, getting stood up was a concern, too. Aunor didn’t get stood up.

Not even by the Young Wolf.

Granted, the reason Aunor didn’t get  _ stood up  _ was because she didn’t really date, or go out much in the first place. Sure, there were other Praxics she wasn’t averse to spending time with, but other than that, her fellow Hidden were rarely all in the same place. Between field work and paperwork, and being (admittedly) a little jaded, it had been a while since she’d done something like this. Meeting a friend for coffee.

Friend? Acquaintance. Colleague. One whom she knew to be a kindred spirit.

And who was also a massive linch pin to the security of the entire City and all of humanity, who, should he become overwhelmed by the pressure, could cause unimaginable damage, whether by fault of his own or not.

So Aunor was meeting him here for coffee. It seemed more appropriate than an interrogation. She’d already investigated him, and refused to regret it, but after he’d been so cooperative - helpful, eager even - on the Drifter case, she almost did.

Almost.

Someone stepped out onto the terrace and Aunor’s eyes were immediately on them. She knew who it was; she’d seen the feeds, the footage. Stills, even. And her details were up to date. His armor was a mishmash pulled together in iridescent gray and dark red, some pieces in better condition than others. His cloak was tattered, faded, not drawing attention. The only defining feature was a white spade near the hem.

One thing was new - not unexpected, but new. Aunor had only heard the rumors. But now she saw proof. He wore a gold cannon on his hip, well cared-for, antique, and with a presence all its own.

His dark eyes fixed on her, colored with puzzlement, hesitant recognition. He came her way, moving as if he glided along the terrace. For someone to move with such grace and look so tense and lost was unusual to her.

As he reached the table, Aunor acknowledged him and stood up. Like him, she was still in her gear; her duster was presumably how he’d placed her in the crowd. But her helmet was off, like his. “Young Wolf. Good to meet you.” She thrust out a gloved hand.

He took it, clasped it more than shook. His hand was firm, but tentative. His eyes traced the curve of her jaw, stuck on her nose, but met hers in a flash. 

At least he could look her in the eye. Most people couldn’t. Most people weren’t trustworthy.

“Sit down,” Aunor said, as she sat herself. 

The Young Wolf sat. His Ghost appeared a moment later. Its shell was simple, white. Unchanged since being born from the Traveler.

“This is North,” he said. His voice was soft and kind of scratchy.

“Hello, Aunor,” North said. “It’s been a while since we heard from you.”

Aunor nodded. “I wanted to touch base. This is Bahaghari, my Ghost.” Bahaghari spun her petals. Evidently she wasn’t in a chatty mood. “First, do you want a drink?”

As they waved down a frame to take their orders, Aunor took the time to study her table-mate. She already knew what he looked like, of course, but true understanding lay in details, details you couldn’t see in captured images. How he looked in person and, of course, how he behaved.

She’d known he was handsome. Dark hair, tan skin, pleasant features in an unremarkable sort of way. He looked like he was just pulled off the street to be an extra in a Daito advertisement gig. It was the eyes and the posture that set him apart. He was a Hunter through and through, but his shoulders bore a humility lacking in most his age. He carried himself like the old Hunters, the ones who’d lost people and seen things even other Guardians couldn’t imagine.

Which, Aunor supposed, he had. Both.

His eyes had a spark. She’d heard it talked about, and now she saw it. Civilians -  _ mortals _ \- said it was leftover proof that the Traveler chose him, that he’d regained his powers before anyone else. Aunor didn’t quite buy that. Still, there was something about his eyes that made you want to keep looking into them. Something that surfaced at first meet and then tried to make you chase it into the depths.

He had, objectively, a humble sort of charisma. It made sense that people felt drawn to him. They’d been the same way about Rezyl Azzir. 

Shifting so he didn’t catch her looking, Aunor cocked her leg, laying it across her lap. “So. Where’ve you been?”

“We’ve been all over,” North said. “The Dreaming City, Nessus, the Leviathan, the Shore, the Ascendant Plane.” He shivered. “It’s been a busy week.”

“How long are you planning to be in town?” 

“Maybe two nights.” North looked at his Guardian. “Maybe one.”

Aunor raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

North paused. “What do you mean?” His inflection told her he knew the answer. This was on the Young Wolf’s behalf. She’d met Guardians like this before, who talked mostly via their Ghosts. It could be confusing. She would have to spend some time bringing this duo out of their shell. (so to speak.)

“Most Guardians - even experienced, important ones - accept a set time frame for R&R. It keeps you sharp. Lets your mind clear out all the dust.” Aunor saw the frame approaching and accepted her coffee. Hers was black, but she noticed the Young Wolf’s looked light brown, like it at least had milk. 

“How long do you stay?” North asked.

“I’m here more than I’d like to be,” Aunor said. “My job keeps me cuffed to the Tower by the ankles most of the time. When I do go out in the field, I usually take rest rotation for a little less than double the time I was gone.” She took a sip of coffee. “Most Guardians on our level do the same.”

“That long?” North sounded worried. Was he fretting that the Young Wolf wouldn’t go for it?

“That long.” Aunor nodded. “We don’t have to wait for our bodies to fix themselves, but we  _ do  _ have to wait for our minds. Especially with the pressure we’re under.”

“...I’m kind of sensing a hint here,” said North uncomfortably. 

The Young Wolf ducked his head. He’d been studiously adding sugar and cream to his coffee. 

“Little coffee with that?” Aunor said, unable to stop herself.

“He doesn’t like bitter things,” North said, as if he’d said it many, many times.

The Young Wolf obviously wasn’t ignoring her, but Aunor wanted to bait him into speaking for himself. This conversation wasn’t doing that. She switched topic.

“So,” she said. “Did you kill him?”

“What?” North stuttered in the air, but Aunor ignored him.

“That cannon,” she said. “Last I heard, it didn’t belong to you.”

She knew - or suspected - how he’d gotten it. But she wanted to hear it from his mouth. His. Not his Ghost’s. Her eyes bored into his head.

“We-” North began to speak, but the Young Wolf suddenly looked up and cut him off.

“Shin contacted me.”  _ Shin. _ So they were on a first name basis? “He wanted to say a few things.”

“He pointed us to a Hive nest in the Tangled Shore,” North added. “There was a weapons master there. Forging some kind of proto-Weapons of Sorrow.”

“He knew about that, and he didn’t tell the City?” Aunor snorted. “Typical. I’m assuming you took care of it.”

“We did,” North said. 

The Young Wolf unholstered The Last Word slowly, and set it on the table.

“He left it to me,” he said. “He’s done.”

Aunor froze. “Done?”

That couldn’t be right. She’d had a standoff with Malphur in the EDZ not that long ago. It had taken a full squad to make him back down from killing some kids with makeshift Thorns and a spooky wardrobe. And even then, he’d left making threats. What changed?

“Done,” The Young Wolf echoed, his voice strangely hollow, but at peace.

North drifted closer to Aunor. “Shin said this would be his final act. His words were…vague.”

Aunor waited for a beat. “So he’s dead?”

The Young Wolf shrugged.

“Maybe,” said North. “Maybe he just felt whatever battle he was fighting, it was safer in our hands.” He spoke slowly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe his own words. Self-conscious of their presumptiveness, perhaps, but also the ring of truth.

Well, one of two possible truths.

“What does he want from you?” Aunor steepled her fingers.

“To not lose our way,” the Young Wolf said. He’d set aside his coffee after a few sips. “That’s all. It’s a gift. So he said.”

“He seemed to think we had earned it,” North said. 

“...Huh,” said Aunor. Given what she knew of Shin Malphur, this was unpredictable but...not entirely out of character. At least, given the moral figure he seemed to imagine himself to be. The Renegade Aunor was familiar with was a ruthless vigilante with whom she’d never seen eye to eye. But if he was to pick out anyone at all to be his protegee, of course it’d be the Young Wolf. 

Which meant someone to add to the list of figures trying to influence humanity’s hero, however benign it might seem.

And it didn’t seem benign to Aunor. With Malphur’s type, there was always a catch.

“Are you going to use it?” she asked.

“Maybe,” the Young Wolf said. “Sometimes.” He slid the Word off the table and reholstered it. “It’s a good gun. Not right for every situation. But some of them.”

Aunor nodded. He was thinking practically. It didn’t seem like she had to be worried about any of Malphur’s rhetoric. 

She checked her chronometer. There were a lot more things she wanted to ask, but she didn’t have much more time.

“What about you?” North said, surprising her. “Have you been on another case?”

“A few, actually,” said Aunor. “Your friend Calus has been giving us Hidden more than a few gray hairs.”

The Young Wolf tensed. He and North shared a look.

“It’s under control,” he said, more to his Ghost than across the table.

“We need to say something,” North urged.

Aunor waited. Cocked an eyebrow.

The Young Wolf sighed. Folded his arms. 

“Calus sent us something you should look at,” North said. “It was written by his Psions. Supposedly they can see the future-”

“They see what he wants to hear,” the Young Wolf said. “I don’t want to read it again. Or spread it around.”

“Someone should see it.” North flew up to his face. “It’s the closest thing we have to intel on Calus’s plans!”

“ _ Hopes _ ,” the Young Wolf said. “ _ Delusions. _ ” 

“This sounds juicy,” Aunor said, her voice dry. Whatever they were on about couldn’t be good, but it was interesting to see the Young Wolf this animated.

“I’ll forward it to you,” North said. “They call it the Chronicon. It’s basically fan fictio-”

“Your case,” the Young Wolf said. “Maybe we can help. We’ve mapped some of the Leviathan.”

Aunor sighed. “I told the Vanguard if they gave me a fireteam we could hollow the place out in a week. They gave me the red light. We’re leaving him be for now.”

The Young Wolf shifted, seemed to relax. It was obvious he didn’t like the attention he was getting from Calus, but he didn’t seem to want the Leviathan destroyed just yet, either. 

This was curious. Aunor was learning a lot more from what these two asked  _ her. _

“Send me your intel, anyway,” Aunor said. “I’ll take a look.” Her chronometer beeped. “Shit. Sorry, I have to go.” She pushed her chair back and stood up.

“What’s wrong?” North sounded concerned. 

“It’s classified,” Aunor said. “But you’ll learn before everyone else, I promise.” Scooping up her coffee, which was almost empty, she sent the Young Wolf one last look. “It was good talking to you. Keep in touch.”

“Definitely,” said North.

The Young Wolf nodded.

Aunor turned and left them there, the sugared-out coffee growing cold on the table.


End file.
